The Makings
by woundedbutterfly
Summary: *Follow up story to "Like Father"* Casey Novak is finding out that when you run from the past, it eventually catches up. And boy does it ever make up for lost time… C/E
1. Failed Seduction

_**The Makings**_

**Casey Novak is finding out that when you run from the past, it eventually catches up. And boy does it ever make up for lost time… C/E**

**Casey is busy trying to get over the consequences of her sexual assault, though her past resurfacing with a vengeance doesn't help matters. Neither does an increasingly distant Elliot Stabler. Alex Cabot is desperate to see her protégé through this rough time, she however has her own demons to battle. And it certainly doesn't help when she is called upon to prosecute someone close to Casey… **

**Be prepared for much angst, drama, twists and turns, and probably surprise guests! The timeline will be subject lost style flashbacks into character backstory, but hopefully it will be easy to follow!**

**Warnings: Um, none really…. I work it chapter by chapter**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order, but I do own a lot of sonic the hedgehog merchandise. **

_**A/N: This story is set straight after my other story "Like Father", might be best to read that one before this one if you haven't, though I'll try to make it follow able anyhow**_

_**Chapter one: Failed Seduction**_

_The following takes place a year and 9 months after ADA Alexandra Cabot was appointed the Assistant District Attorney for the Special Victims Unit_

Alex Cabot couldn't hold her liquor. That was a fact. Twirling the stem on her Bordeaux glass, now nearly drained of the blood red Merlot it once contained, Alex solidified this theory in her mind, and it gave her a warm sense of comfort. Or maybe that was the alcohol again.

It was nearing ten in the evening, and after a long awaited guilty verdict in court earlier that Friday (sentencing was yet to take place, but Alex was certain it would be 25 - life), following a protracted, arduous investigation, she and the rest of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit were enjoying a well earned post work beverage at a local bar they tended to frequent, it was the least they deserved after all the hard work and sleepless nights they put into the case, but now, for reasons Alex herself could not quite explain, she felt her gaze inexplicably drawn to the smoky brown eyes of one Olivia Benson. The Detective was regaling the assembled squad with a humorous anecdote of some variety, but against the hum of conversation and clinking glasses and the general bustling ambiance of a nightspot gearing up for the weekend, Alex couldn't follow the thread of her story. That and she was far too distracted watching the older woman from her vantage point across the table and at an angle, Olivia couldn't see her focused line of sight unless she turned directly to the attorney. Which, the second Alex thought about it, she promptly did.

Shit.

Had she caught Alex staring?

Alex quickly cast her gaze down to the table, and damn it, she'd even thrown in a coy smile as she'd bashfully averted her gaze.

She snatched her thick framed D&G glasses off, laying them on the table and pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping she could explain away the gawking by feigning alcohol induced visual impairment.

Maybe that's what it was. She'd met the detectives after they'd had dinner (she'd had work to finish off after the trial), so she was drinking on an empty stomach. She was feeling light-headed.

But lately, Alex had been feeling that way an awful lot around Olivia.

Which didn't make one iota of sense.

Sure, Olivia was a card carrying, outspoken and proud lesbian, but Alex herself was a proven, practising, boyfriend possessing heterosexual. Sure, he was dull as hell, an accountant by trade, but he was a _he._ Alex Cabot was attracted to, and dated men.

Which meant what whatever strange, _extremely _distracting thoughts she might have been having about Benson were just…glitches. Curiosity maybe.

Alex slid her glasses back on. It was time to take positive action.

"Alright guys, I'm gonna call it a night," She smiled, making sure to avoid locking eyes with the only other female member of the squad.

Suddenly, she felt a hand catch her wrist, pulling her back down into her seat,

"Come on Alex, you're the guest of honour here, you can't go yet!" Olivia said, flashing a beaming white smile. Her eyes had an odd sparkle, and it wasn't the drink, Olivia was designated driver for the night and as such had been on cokes and lemonades. Did the Detective hold her eyes just a second too long?

"I'd love to stay, I've just got…stuff to do." Alex decided. Stuff that didn't include salacious, entirely inappropriate thoughts about members of the police squad she worked for. _Especially_ not female members of the police squad she worked for.

"I'll drive you home," Olivia smiled, snatching her tan leather jacket off the back of her chair and shrugging it on.

"Oh, no Liv, don't worry, you stay here, have fun," Alex said, waving clumsily and nearly smacking herself in the process. Everyone at the table let out a collective group chuckle.

"Now I'm definitely driving you," Olivia said, shaking her head at the lawyers comic clumsiness.

*****

This was embarrassing. Alexandra Cabot did not do drunk.

Around the office, Alex liked to think she exuded an aura of dignity, professionalism, class even. And it wasn't just a persona, it was the way Alex had been raised. She wasn't quite as anal as word around the office would have one believe, but it simply did not _do _that she was presently stood in a hallway, outside her _own_ apartment, inebriated, blinking heavily at her key fob, trying to figure out which one of the miscellaneous little metal bastards fit the damn door.

Olivia had decided to walk her to the door, and now Alex was beginning to regret accepting her chivalrous offer. Said Detective was presently stood beside her, making no effort to help Alex successfully enter her residence, or to hide her amusement.

"I need my glasses," Alex said, making excuses, "I think they're in my bag somewhere."

"I think they're on your face Counsellor," Olivia said, playfully tapping the frames with her index finger.

"Oh, right," Alex said, feeling the warmth of a blush spread up her neck and across her cheeks, and she wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment at her faux pas, or Olivia's proximity. Grinning her wonderful smile, she gently took the keys from Alex, pushing the correct one into the lock in one try.

"Thanks," Alex said, stilted. Still too embarrassed to say more. It seemed on the short ride from the bar to her apartment, the wine had taken a deeper affect on her. She swiftly gone from comfortably tipsy to genuinely drunk.

That was the only explanation for the words that leapt from her mouth next.

"You wanna come in?" Alex asked, swallowing hard as she realized what she had just said, and who she had said it to.

"Alex," Olivia said, pulling a fake shocked expression, "what would Norman say?" The Detective clearly thought she was being humorous, turning Alex's benign, innocent invitation into a scandalous suggestion. There was no way Olivia could know that it was in fact the latter.

_Screw it, _Alex thought to herself. This wasn't an opportunity that would repeat itself, and hell, if Olivia turned her down, she could pass it off as a drunken mistake. Or maybe a _big_ drunken mistake.

"I'm serious," Alex said, leaning in a little closer, removing any ambiguity invoked by her statement by placing a hand on Olivia's shoulder. Realization dawned on the Detectives face, and she nodded.

"Alex, you one of the most gorgeous women I have ever met in my life, and I'd have to be an idiot to turn down that invitation…" Olivia said, pausing as she considered her next words.

"I hear a but coming," Alex said.

Olivia nodded, "but you are, drunk, straight, _and_ attached."

Alex raised a hand "Hey, I'm tipsy, not drunk, who says I'm straight, and you've met Norman. There are Birch Trees with more gripping personalities."

Olivia gave a slightly sad smile, placing a hand on Alex's cheek. Her skin burnt on contact, there was no way it was just her mind playing tricks, "Alex, trust me sweetie, you're going to be very embarrassed tomorrow morning. Goodnight."

And with that she left hurriedly down the hallway, leaving Alex wondering why she was feeling less embarrassed than disappointed.

_The following takes place the week after the trial of Olivia Benson closed_

It was Sunday, the day before Casey was due back in the office for the first time since the whole rape debacle, and she was basically shitting herself.

McCoy had told her she could take as much time off as she wanted (before he had been promoted, leaving his post open for Alex), and Alex had extended the same offer. But it had been months, and Casey wasn't an individual who enjoyed long periods of inactivity, though the lie-ins had been heaven. Especially when she was accompanied by a certain blue-eyed Detective.

Which unfortunately, was not the case this evening. Casey sat next to Elliot on his plush canvas sofa, watching as he tapped away diligently at his laptop, working on some case or another. He barely registered her presence. He was there in body, but his mind was most definitely at the Special Victims Unit squad-room.

This called for decisive action.

Casey got up from the sofa, entering Elliot's room, opening the closet and rummaging through what little clothes she kept at his place (most of her wardrobe now resided at Alex's). When nothing too racy came to hand, Casey decided to go with what she was already wearing. Under her clothes.

She stripped off her tee-shirt and jeans, giving a passing glance to the mirror as she re-entered the living room. Though it had been months since the rape, and her injuries were now fully healed, Casey still couldn't bring herself to stand in front of a mirror anything less than fully dressed. It wasn't as though she regularly paraded about nude admiring her reflection prior to the incident, that would be odd, but Casey realized that she now vehemently avoided it.

She perched on the sofa next to Elliot, a sudden shyness rushing up on her as she started to reconsider her bold state of undress. Immediately though, she had his attention. Doing a double take, he quickly set the computer down on the coffee table, eyes roving unabashedly up and down her semi-dressed form.

"You ready for bed?" He asked innocently, placing one hand on her knee. Casey couldn't help but smile. He was adorably easy at times.

"What gave you that idea?" Casey asked. Now he was fully engaged, she could toy with him a little. He deserved it for ignoring her all evening, especially when he was fully aware that tomorrow was her first day back with the DA's office, and she had made scant effort to hide her apprehensions. He grinned widely, leaning over, but just before his lips met hers, a peppy chiming sounded. Elliot groaned.

"That's my cell," He explained, reaching into his pocket. Before he could produce said communications device, Casey said,

"You wanna get that?" He removed the cell from his jeans pocket and looked at the screen. Casey swiped the phone from his hands, affected her most seductive gaze and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

"Let me rephrase that, are you _sure _you wanna get that?" She asked, voice taking on an unmistakably seductive quality. She was pleased to see Elliot unconsciously lick his lips.

"It's Kathy," Elliot said, voice heavy with disappointment. Casey sighed, pressing the phone back into his hands and quickly dismounting him.

"Hold that thought," Elliot said as he hit redial, obviously eager not to let the opportunity slide, but it was no good. Already, Casey was slumped on the sofa next to him, suddenly self-conscious again, arms folded across her bare midriff. She listened absently as Elliot nodded, making the occasional 'uh-huh' as he listened to his ex-wife.

"I have to go," He huffed, unsurprisingly. That was usually what a call from Kathy resulted in.

"What did she want?" Casey asked, impressed with how free of spite she'd managed to make the sentence sound.

"Its about the kids, I'm sorry, I've gotta go, I'll see you in the morning," He said, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. Casey got up from the sofa.

"I think I'm gonna head over to Alex's, I've got work in the morning," Casey said casually, but secretly hoping to remind him of what tomorrow was for her, and jar his conscience. She definitely didn't want to come between Elliot and his kids, however, she needed him right now. Casey wanted to ask exactly what was so urgent that he couldn't be with his girlfriend when she needed him.

Kathy _wanted _him there. Casey _needed_ him. It didn't have fuck all to do with jealousy, but of course, if she said anything to make him stay, that was what it would come off as.

"Hey Casey, don't worry about it," Elliot said, pulling her into a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder, wishing she could fall asleep right there. "I'll drive you to Alex's on the way." He added.

"Thanks," Casey said, forcing a smile. She'd half thought he'd reconsidered, but no such luck. She returned to the bedroom, dressing to an appropriate level and followed Elliot out to his car. She couldn't begrudge him for putting his family over her, but still she did.

And it made her feel like a fucking terrible person.

_The next morning_

"You ready kiddo?" Alex asked. Casey Novak stood in her hallway, shoulders back, arms folded across her chest, staring down her own reflection in the floor length mirror stationed there. It was strange seeing Casey back in her lawyer garb again, she'd gotten used to her in casual jeans and tee-shirts or vests if the weather permitted. The business wear aged the younger lawyer, and seemed to come with a free unrelenting serious expression and humour vanquisher. The attorney had one eyebrow raised, perhaps road testing it to ensure it was still functional before she needed to rely on it in court. Casey had slowly begun dying her hair back to a rich strawberry blonde colour instead of the near platinum shades it had been heading previously, which Alex had thought a good choice. It suited her skin tone better.

"As I'm ever gonna be," Casey sighed, hefting her briefcase listlessly, as though it was both comprised of and filled entirely with lead.

"Casey, before we go, there's something I should tell you," Alex said, attempting not to sound melodramatic. Casey looked quizzical and Alex swallowed hard, regretting not telling Casey about this earlier as her better judgement had told her to. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Casey interrupted,

"Alex, if it's about work, I don't know if it's such a good idea to talk about it outside of the office." She shrugged, "I mean, we're still sharing an apartment at the minute, and I was kind of hoping we could keep work and our personal lives separate."

"All right," Alex nodded. It could keep until they arrived at the office. She wasn't exactly bursting to share her announcement at any rate.

*****

Being the Boss at the DA's office, Alex could afford herself some liberties. Such as taking the scenic route into the office to afford her more time to ensure that her sort of protégé was amply prepared for the day that led ahead. And to press for further details about last night.

"So where did Elliot get to?" Alex asked. Last night, Casey had shown up at her door at a little past 10pm, shuffling from foot to foot, as close to bashful as the younger attorney ever got, asking if she could stay. Elliot had called Alex earlier in the evening, telling her he'd be looking after Casey tonight. It was a strange arrangement they had going. It was as though they were parents after a fairly amicable divorce and Casey was their now time-share offspring.

"He had to see his kids," Casey in an instant. Her quick reply smacked of defensiveness.

"Hey, I wasn't saying anything," Alex added quickly.

*****

"So how's Alex keeping these days?" Casey shot back, deliberately touching a nerve with the newly appointed DA. It was only fair, if Alex wanted to poke her sensitive spots she was fully entitled to poke back. With a stick if need be.

"Haven't seen her," Alex replied, eye focusing on the road ahead and voice taking on an icy timbre. In truth, Casey hadn't shot back to hurt her, it was a defence mechanism, which had had it's desired affect. If Alex wanted to get personal, they'd both get personal. And god knows Cabot was allergic to that. She shut up the rest of the ride into the office, leaving Casey to mull over her thoughts to the steady refrain of the growling engine.


	2. Introductions

**Chapter 2: Introductions**

_The following takes place during the week after the trial of Olivia Benson closed_

Sitting at the head of the table seemed odd to Alex. She still wasn't used to the fact that she was now _the _District Attorney of the Manhattan .

"Right, thank you all for coming," Alex said, gazing around the table at her assembled team of ADA's. Two weeks into her new role as Deputy District Attorney and Alex still continued to forget that she was heading the meeting. A pregnant pause had fallen over the room, so thinking fast, she cleared her throat deliberately in a gesture that said 'I meant to do that'. She flicked a glance at the neatly printed meeting agenda occupying the desk before her and began her discourse,

"Okay, so first of all, I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome back Senior Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak, I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say it's great to have you with us again," Alex said. Casey gave a tight, awkward smile as the focus of the meeting was diverted to her, her flushing complexion suggesting she was keen to slide under the table her gaze was presently pointedly focused on. Alex flashed her an apologetic glance before continuing.

"Right, onto the next point on the agenda, I know when a new boss arrives, you're always holding your breath waiting for the needless, power tripping changes. You'll be glad to know, that's not how I do things," she paused, taking a second to straighten her glasses, this was not going to be popular, "however, over the last two weeks, I have been asked by to review your skill sets, and ensure that you are all aligned with the department that best matches your particular expertise. And as such, there will be _a few _reassignments."

Immediately, she had everyone's rapt attention. Before an impromptu question time could ensue, Alex quickly added,

"But since I'm in court in half an hour, I don't have time to discuss this at length. I've sent you all a memo detailing the changes, read it when you get back to your desks please, and I've cleared my diary this afternoon for anyone who should wish to go into this further, just send me a meeting invite." That was her out. No way did Alex want to spend the rest of her morning arguing with a roomful of some of the best lawyers New York had to offer. This way, the ADA's would all quickly dash back to their desks to find out if they were affected by the changes, and this afternoon, she could deal with them as on a one-to-one basis.

There was one particular meeting invite however, which Alex was not looking forward to receiving.

*****

Casey consciously slowed her pace as she made the short trip back to her office. The other meeting attendees had exited with the same muted haste as she, all eager to read the memo from Cabot.

As Casey took a seat at her desk and flicked her computer monitor back on, she had a feeling similar to when she had tried out for a play in Junior High. In a spate of youthful exuberance, after watching the movie Grease on video with her brother Zachary, she'd auditioned for the part of Sandy Olsen.

She clicked on the e-mail from Alex, titled _Updated Assignments._

As she read down the list of names, searching for her own, she got the same sinking feeling in her stomach as she'd got when she'd read the final cast list for the school production of _Grease:_

_ADA Branch, W - Special Victims Unit_

The son of Arthur Branch, William 'Billy' Branch was a great attorney and also a nice guy, with a down-to-earth charm that she happened to find rather pleasant. Casey had even gone on a couple of dates with him, just after she had split up with her fiancé, Charlie, before deciding she was rebounding and it was unfair and breaking things off. That and he was her bosses son at the time.

Though he hadn't wanted things to end between them, Billy didn't hold it against her. In fact, he still had a habit of calling her _Darlin' _and _Sugar_, terms of endearment which, under normal circumstances would have earned the user a slap (or perhaps her infamous death-glare normally reserved for sex offenders), but from Billy, flavoured with his easy southern lilt, seemed sweet.

She quickly continued down the list, finally spotting her own name:

_ADA Novak, C - Major Case Squad_

Casey bit her lip in an attempt to quell the anger that was building up in her chest. It mirrored precisely her abortive foray into school theatre. When she'd eventually seen the cast list, she had found she was playing the part of Cha Cha DiGregorio.

This nearly sucked as much.

Casey got to her feet and began to pace her spacious office, in a futile attempt to diffuse the rage that was quickly turning into a haze.

What the fuck was Cabot playing at? Was this what Alex had been trying to tell her earlier? Was she going to have to move offices? When the hell was this taking place?

Fuck meeting requests.

Casey stormed out of her office and threw Alex's office door open with a satisfying clatter, causing her new boss and present flatmate to start.

*****

Alex looked at the seething redhead in her doorframe and wondered why she was surprised by Casey's reaction.

If she had learnt anything in her thirty-five years on the planet, it was that people essentially did not change.

Sure, some picked up bad or good habits along the way, maybe changed their perspective, their thinking on certain issues, their haircut. But their core being; no one changed that.

Even if she had matured somewhat, inside, Casey Novak was still the brazen, belligerent fire-haired kid that had walked into the DA's office with a head full of impractical idealism and a chip on her shoulder that would require a dumper truck of cement to even begin to fill.

*****

_The following takes place the on Casey Novak's first day at the DA's office_

Alex marched into the foyer of the District Attorney's office, browsing the file of the newest addition to the office. Already waiting in the foyer was a woman whose basic description, (apart from the thick framed designer glasses of course) was scarily similar to her own. Platinum blonde, tall, smartly dressed with sharply drawn features and piercing blue eyes. ADA Serena Southerlyn was the other half of the acceptable face of the DA's office and as such was also always sent over to 'buddy up' with new starters at the office. Her presence meant they must've been getting two newbies today.

"Hey Alex," She greeted with a nod, holding in her hands an identical manila file, "I've got Jordan Branning, 54, coming across from Holmes & Beighton in New Jersey, hmmm… defence attorney got a pang of conscience after too many years defending bastards, maybe hoping to make amends with the big guy before their big reunion. Any unwarranted judgements you'd like to pass on your new assignment?"

Alex open the file, "Casey Novak Jr, passed the bar at…god, 22, now 23. Last job was clerking for Judge Conway-Clark, this is their first _real_ job. Moving straight into White Collar once they're settled in. I'm guessing precocious wannabe politician, put through law school by daddies money and given a job here because of said parents connections."

"Sounds like you're describing yourself there Cabot," Serena ribbed with a wicked smile. It was well known around the office that Alex's parents were old money, and that her father had many a friend in the DA's office. It wasn't as though that was the only reason Alex had managed to secure the role of ADA (though it had no doubt smoothed the way), and Southerlyn knew it, but Serena did like to tease. A sense of humour was a must around the office, it wasn't as though any of the attorneys had much time to indulge their fun sides on the job.

Cracking wise whilst cross-examining an accused rapist wasn't about to win any favours with the jury, or the judge for that matter.

"Harsh, even for you," Alex frowned, "shall we call them through,"

"Sure, but if yours is hot, I'm _so _trading," Serena said, tucking the folder into her briefcase.

"Hey, Casey and Jordan, those names could go either way," Alex said, then turned to the receptionist, "hey Rachel, could you grab the new starters from the waiting room."

"Like you?" Serena said. She was on fire today.

"Oh, you are clever, see what you did there," Alex said, shaking her head. Alex had recently disclosed her relationship with Olivia Benson to Serena, and had regretted it every second since. All the mocking had been good natured, but it was beginning to grate.

"Here they are." Serena said from the corner of her mouth, straightening up and affecting a professional demeanour. Alex did the same as the receptionist Rachel returned with two people in tow, one an older man, with still jet black hair (possibly 'just for men' assisted), and a slightly ruffled single breasted navy blue suit and a wide, red and blue diagonal striped tie pulled painfully tight around his collar, he gazed about the office like a surprised puppy being welcomed to a new home. Alex guessed that was Mr. Branning.

Alex's new charge, Ms. Novak, by contrast looked unenamoured by her surroundings, her bottle green eyes levelled at she and Serena, dark red hair cut to her shoulders, ashen complexion. The first question that entered Alex's mind upon setting eyes on the young woman was…what the hell was she wearing, and was she colour-blind?

Her blazer was a vibrant shade of lime green, which neither complimented or contrasted with the dark knee length skirt that nearly met her calve height black boots. Despite her remarkably poor fashion choices, she was still strikingly attractive. Nice features, slim legs that went on forever and even her appalling skirt could not ruin the appeal of.

All noted from an impartial viewpoint of course, Alex was very much attached, and happily so. Whilst their relationship was still somewhat clandestine, defence attorneys would give her hell every time she put Olivia on the stand, plus the interoffice jokes would be unbearable, they were presently considering getting a place together.

"Trade me," Serena whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Alex smirked. She wasn't about to do Southerlyn any favours after the jibes she'd been doling out. Besides, she didn't want to scare off the young lawyer on her first day, and unlike Serena, she had noticed the rather prominent diamond solitaire ring inhabiting the young attorney's left hand ring finger.

"Ms. Novak, nice to meet you," Alex said, stepping forward and offering a handshake.


	3. Arrivals and Departures

**A/N So yeah, I haven't gotten any better at updating. I guess would get a 'must try harder' mark on my updating report… all fail contained herein is my own. I fail at proofing since after too much writing, my eyes lock up and refuse to function. Feel free to leave your abuse/comments/random meanderings in a review! **

_The following takes place the on Casey Novak's first day at the DA's office_

_What harm could it do?_

That innocuous question had fluttered through Alex Cabot's mind twice in the last couple of hours, once when she'd realized she had a court date that afternoon and decided to let the new White-Collar ADA sit shotgun, and the second time when Novak had asked if she could conduct a cross-exam.

Now, stood in Judge Taft's chambers, she was receiving the answer to that question in the fullest of measures.

"…make no mistake Ms. Cabot, if you ever let a Junior Attorney defy me in open court, in _my _courtroom, and turn proceedings into a three ring circus, you can rest assured that you and your little protégé will swiftly find yourselves guests of the courthouse cells, and I'll also throw in letters to both your superior and the bar association. Do we understand each other?" The older man asked, wispy grey, owl like brows knitting together.

"Yes Your Honor, and I apologise again on my colleagues behalf, it's her first day, and I assure you," Alex leaned forward, peering wide-eyed over her glasses to affect her most sincere gaze, "it will not happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Taft growled, nodding to indicate that she was dismissed.

Alex did not need telling twice.

Out in the hallway, she felt her faintly aching ribs relax as she released a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. At just past seven in the evening, the court building was near empty and her fire-haired charge was easy to sight amid the vaulted ceilings and high gloss marble floors.

After what had transpired in the courtroom earlier, Alex expected the young attorney to appear somewhat sheepish, perhaps regretting her earlier display of hubris. Instead, Casey Novak was stationed leant up against a oak support beam, idly thumbing through a sheaf of neat white documents, her angular features at peace.

Not a care in the world.

"Casey," Alex called curtly.

The younger attorney glanced up, quickly pushing off from the wall and marching over, something of a spring in her step.

"You were in there a while, how'd it go?" Casey asked. If Alex wasn't mistaken, there was a well restrained sense of glee behind the other womans stoic exterior.

"Well, he's not hauling us in front of Branch, so I guess it went as well as it could have," Alex said.

"I wouldn't have expected him to," Casey shrugged, "he knows he hasn't got a leg to stand on. My cross-exam in no way contravened either court procedure or the law."

"But you did royally piss off Taft," Alex countered, "he told you, directly, to end that line of questioning, and you…well you pretty much blazed right on."

Casey brought her red brows together, "it's the defence attorney's job to make an objection if he had one, not the judges, unless I was in breach of courtroom procedure, which you know I wasn't."

"Yes Casey, you and I both went to law school, admittedly one of us far more recently than the other," Alex tacked on, spitefully. Alex wasn't fond of giving newbies a hard time (she personally had been ridden mercilessly by her own so-called 'mentor' for the first few months), but she had just spent the last half-hour bending over for Judge Taft and being schooled on the finer points of courtroom etiquette by a pretentious kid who by all rights should still be attending toga parties and attempting to consume her own body weight in alcohol was more than she could stand with good grace.

Casey shifted her jaw, appearing displeased with the barb, "despite my lack of tenure, I believe I followed procedure to the letter, and not only that, we won the case, I really don't see what the problem is."

Alex shook her head, "the problem is, Taft could have thrown the case out, and our asses into contempt."

"A Judge can't throw a case out because the counsel pissed him off," Casey stated, matter-of-factly. This time, Alex couldn't suppress a chuckle. Technically, by the letter of the law, young Novak was correct, her line of questioning had been both valid and pertinent. Taft had no legal grounds to throw out the case. Unfortunately, things didn't always work out quite that way. Alex had seen Judges throw cases out because they felt that the Prosecution was shabbily dressed.

At that though, Alex's anger subsided, as she realized that the younger lawyer wasn't deliberately behaving contrite, she was just somewhat endearingly idealistic and naïve.

"You have _so much_ to learn," Alex smiled, amused by her fellow lawyers puzzlement at her ambiguous statement.

_The following takes place during the week after the trial of Olivia Benson closed_

Casey marched up the desk, taking a seat without invite from Alex, "okay which is it, you have a problem with me dating a Detective in the squad I work for, you don't think I can handle working for Special Victims because of what I've been through, _or_ are you just hoping I'll be able to keep tabs on Eames, maybe put in a good word for you…"

Alex's face remained a mask throughout Casey's outburst, and when she spoke, her cadence was calm and level, "Novak, shut the door."

Seemingly unnerved by Alex's cool delivery, Casey obeyed, slowly rising from the seat and clicking the door shut.

"Sit down." Alex said, voice still void of emotion. Once she had complied, Alex got to her feet and rounded the desk, towering above the seated attorney, peering over her glasses to pin Casey with a fierce glare.

"Lets get one thing straight," Alex said, "you are my friend, and my housemate, however, as soon as we walk into this building, you are my subordinate. I expect your behaviour to reflect that."

Casey opened her mouth to rebut, but Alex hushed her with a raised hand.

"I am not done yet," Alex snapped, "if you ever storm into my office, shouting and stomping your feet like a petulant, spoilt child, I will fire your ass quicker than you can say 'hey, I thought that was Arthur's trademark'."

Rebuked and adequately deflated, Casey nodded sheepishly, "I apologise for my belligerence, I was…surprised."

Content that she had sufficiently asserted her authority, Alex soften, returning to her chair and removing her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't have much of a choice."

Casey frowned, "Alex, fifteen seconds ago you were restating your authority, now you had no choice?"

"Casey, whose name is on the door to this office?"

Casey glanced back to the entrance way, "actually, it still says Jack McCoy…"

"My point exactly," Alex interrupted, "it has been a month, and they still haven't changed it. I called facilities, they hadn't received notification. I asked the Attorney General, and he informed me in no uncertain terms that the delay had not been an oversight…"

"So this isn't a permanent assignment?"

Alex nodded, "I may have had the title of District Attorney bestowed upon me, however, there is a very definite unofficial 'deputy' preceding it, and while I am honoured to take up the role and have few doubts about my ability to perform my duties, I am under no illusions about how I got here. Harold Devlin is a hundred times more qualified than me, and was heavily predicted by everyone to succeed Jack when he inevitably dropped a big one. However, with the recent criticism of the DA's office regarding the appointment from within the 'Old Boys Club'…"

Realization dawned on the other lawyer, "so it's a political move…you look better in a skirt and stilettos than Devlin."

"More or less," Alex nodded.

"And you're okay with being just what, a puppet?"

"It's not like that, while I would have preferred to have been appointed on the strength of my track record and legal skills, I'm not about to refuse an appointment I have worked my ass off for on the grounds of righteous indignation over the circumstances."

"But if you have no real power, what's the point?"

"I just need to play ball until I've got my feet under the table," Alex said with a shrug, "if I don't play nice with the Attorney General, they'll find someone who will. That is how politics works,"

"And people wonder why I've never had any aspirations to take my career down that path," Casey said with a wry smile.

"Sometimes you have to kiss some ass to get where you want to go," Alex said tightly, "while I have every respect you as a straight-shooter, there is a reason I'm sat on this side of this desk and you on the other."

"You keep your promotion, I'll keep my principals," Casey said, tapering off as she recognized the unspoken warning glaring from behind Alex's square-framed glasses.

"I will put you back in Special Victims as soon as I can, for now, can you just sit tight for me?" Alex asked, imploringly.

Casey considered it for a moment, "Alright."

"Thank you, now if you don't mind, that court date I told you about in the morning meeting? It wasn't an excuse."

Casey got to her feet, "Okay. I'll see you back at the apartment," she said, taking her leave.

*****

Casey settled down on her office sofa, kicking her glossy black pumps under the coffee table. She rubbed tensely at the knotted muscles in the back of her neck.

Some fucking first day.

Casey masochistically halfway wished she was neck deep in cases as was her usual fare, at least then she'd have something to do other than twiddle her thumbs, reminiscing about the last time she'd been in this office.

Unfortunately, no cases had thus far been turned over to her, and with her impending reassignment, it seemed that none would be in the near future.

_Throw pillows, that's what I need… _Casey thought as she glanced sleepily down at the sofa. At least then she could take a do something productive like take a decent nap.

Just then, her cell vibrated in her pocket. Casey withdrew it with a sigh, but her despondency quickly turned to excitement as she read the SMS message.

"Steph, if anyone asks, I'll be back by two," Casey called to her secretary as she jogged out of the office before Alex or anyone else had a chance to stop her.

*****

Elliot loped through the hospital corridors, on the lookout for a familiar figure. The clinical, astringent scented halls were all too familiar surroundings for him. It was a pleasant change for Elliot; striding up the halls with a giddy anticipation instead of a latent, stomach churning dread.

"El!" A recognizable husky voice called from a ward he had just breezed past. A grin spread across his face as he walked up to his girlfriend, who stood in the Maternity ward, still in full business wear, peering through a glass window with an adorable sense of wonderment playing about her features.

He took up station behind her, snaking his arms around her waist and following her sightline.

"I got away as soon as I could," He said, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, "which one is our little man?"

Casey pointed to a tiny, pink baby with a thick head of black hair, "that's my nephew, Brandon Maxwell Dent."

As though hearing the couple talk about him, the tiny infant opened his eyes, scrunching miniscule hands and blinking at his audience. No matter how many babies Elliot saw, they always had the same effect on him.

"Hey little guy," Elliot said, his voice involuntarily jumping a couple of octaves, "this is your Aunt Casey, and we are very glad to meet you."

"Don't even think about it," Casey warned in a slightly nervous tone. It was then Elliot realized he had unconsciously slipped one hand under her shirt, his fingers spread flat across the plane of her stomach.

Elliot immediately withdrew his hand, "Hey, I wasn't!" He paused for a moment before gently pressing his mouth against her neck and adding, "at least…not yet."

He felt a chuckle vibrate through her body, "not for a _long _time. El, you are the single most broody man I have ever met."

Elliot took a step back, turning Casey about to face him, "can you blame me? Who wouldn't want a mini-you?" He asked, cupping her cheeks in his palms and placing an Eskimo kiss on her nose.

"Ahem!" A voice interrupted from behind them. Elliot turned to see two men occupying the doorway.

Zachary, Casey's older brother walked over, accompanied by his Husband, Dave, clucking his tongue in mock disapproval, "now, now C.J. you know I accept your lifestyle, but can you please knock it off in front of my son? I don't want him growing up thinking heterosexuality is normal…"

"You're a tool," Casey frowned, smacking her brother on the shoulder in a less than friendly fashion.

Zach gasped, "hey assault! And in front of a cop as well! Elliot, I fully expect you to slap the cuffs on her!"

Elliot gave a cheeky grin, "I'm not sure Case would appreciate that…at least not in public anyway…"

Casey flushed bright red and Zach cringed, "ugh, try to remember your audience before throwing the kinky sex jokes out there…"

"Don't worry Zach, we don't…" Casey began.

"Please! No more information C.J.!" Zach yelled, recoiling and covering his ears as though he'd been subjected to a sonic blast.

Casey rolled her eyes, "Zach, I'm pushing thirty, I'd have thought you'd have gotten over the idea of me having sex by now."

Zach shook his head, "never. I like to imagine you're like Barbie: flat in front. A totally asexual being."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Casey said, rolling her eyes.

"Congratulations," Elliot said abruptly, hoping to change the subject, reaching out to briskly shake the hand of the new fathers. Casey took the cue and gave her brother a grudging hug.

Suddenly, Elliot's phone trilled. He sighed deeply, it was only a matter of time. He'd escaped from the precinct on the promise of returning with coffee and other unhealthy nourishment.

"Stabler," he answered, cautiously glancing around, hoping not to be chastised by a passing nurse for using his cell on the ward. On the other end of the line, Munch detailed a call out. Elliot absently repeated the address back to his colleague, but was surprised to see both Casey and Zach turn to him, startled, "alright John, I'll be there." He flipped his cell shut, "what? You know the address?"

Casey nodded slowly, looking worriedly between he and her brother, "yeah, we grew up there."


	4. Games Night

**A/N Okay, it's been forever since I updated this, so I thought I'd better. This chapter contains some language which people might find offensive, but I feel it's necessary, so it's in there.**

**Um, I don't have much else to say except please review if you have a mo, so that I know you're reading, and have more motivation to not take an age to update!**

**Also, any mistakes are my own, as I don't have a beta, but do have epic proof reading fail. And I'm tired. And Dyslexic. And out of excuses, so read on…**

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**Chapter Four: Games Night **

On the familiar drive to her childhood home, Casey began to wonder why she had hassled Elliot into bringing her along.

She wasn't even the Special Victims Unit's ADA any more, and as per her father's request, hadn't spoken to or seen her parents in two months.

But still, there she was, riding in the passenger seat as her boyfriend pulled into the drive behind her fathers battered up old blue Camaro. Perhaps her subconscious was telling her she needed to speak with her family. Her subconscious could be a real, interfering bitch at times.

"You wanna wait in the car?" Elliot asked, placing one hand on her shoulder, perhaps in response to the trepidation inked on her face.

"No, I better come with," Casey said, solidifying her resolve by clicking the passenger door open and beginning the short walk to the porch.

Elliot straightened his tie and rapped loudly on the door, which near immediately swung open to reveal a woman, late-fifties, tall, with auburn hair. The not so subtle family resemblance told him that this was Casey's mother, Marie Novak.

"C.J.!" She greeted in surprise, immediately pulling her daughter into a hug. Casey looked stiff, reluctantly placing an arm around her mothers shoulders, waiting to be released.

"Hi Mom," Casey greeted, unenthused, when she was eventually freed from the embrace.

"It's been months baby, you haven't even called," her mother said softly, glancing Elliot over with a certain curiosity.

Casey shrugged, "you've got a phone, and my number."

Noticing the situation was about to turn awkward, Elliot quickly changed the subject, "I'm Detective Elliot Stabler, I work with your daughter. We got a call from your husband about a body,"

"Oh yes, come on through, you too C.J., I'll put some coffee on, and I've just taken a banana loaf out of the oven," Marie said, stepping aside and allowing the two inside.

Casey chose not to call her mother out on the "happy families" act. She knew her mother too well; what her Dad said, went. That was how things had always been, she was weak-willed but set in her ways, no need to rock the boat, especially considering the circumstances of their visit. She and Elliot took up residence on the sofa as her mother scuttled off to procure beverages and the aforementioned cake. She glanced around the room, it was much the same as she remembered it, beige and floral, slightly twee due to her mothers influence. Across the top of the fireplace, there were family photos, her parents wedding photo, her brothers Danny and Robbie in uniform, and her brother Zachary conspicuously absent. That said, her father apparently wasn't as mad as she'd thought. Her own graduation photo was still there, silver framed alongside the rest.

"You alright?" Elliot asked softly, putting a protective hand on her knee.

"I'll be fine," Casey answered, remaining stoic. Just then, footsteps sounded down the staircase, and her father entered the room, regarding her coolly.

"Detective," He greeted, "Junior, what are you doing here?" Apparently there wasn't going to be any façade of friendliness in front of guests. Casey should have known. Elliot had been right there when her father had told her she if she continued to talk to her brother Zach, she could kiss the rest of her family goodbye.

"I was there when Detective Stabler took the call, I went to school with Karen, I thought I should be here," Casey said, getting to her feet in preparation, it wasn't outside the realms of possibility that her Dad would tell her to leave, despite Elliot's presence.

"Alright," her father nodded, "Robbie's out on the porch, go say hi to him while I talk to the Detective."

Casey glanced across at Elliot who gave a gentle shrug. He was leaving it up to her. Whilst she wasn't eager for a reunion with her eldest brother Robert, she knew she had no business on the case. And disobeying her father in his own home generally didn't end well. She and Robbie didn't have a good relationship. Truth be told, they didn't have a relationship at all, Casey had avoided him like a contagious virus ever since she'd left for college. He was 44, and had moved back into the family home back when Casey was twelve, he had left the Army at 26, on medical grounds, post traumatic stress. He worked at the local convenience store ever since, and didn't seem to have any plans to fly the nest. That didn't stop her parents thinking the sun shone out of his ass however.

"I'll be out back if you need me," Casey said, pacing out to the kitchen.

As Casey stepped onto the porch, she was greeted by the familiar broad back of her brother, Robbie Novak, staring out over the hedged in back garden, one arm dangling at his side, cigarette pinched between two fingers. That prompted her to reach for her own pack, stashed in the inside jacket pocket, fumbling for her lighter, which she realized was likely in her briefcase back in the living room. Robbie turned, realizing he had company, a slight smirk registering as her recognized her,

"C.J.! Long time no see!" He greeted, withdrawing a plain steel zippo from his jeans pocket and flipping it open to reveal a flickering flame. Instinctively, Casey jerked away from him, drawing her hands up to her chest.

"Easy kid! I'm not about to set fire to you…" He said, amused by her knee-jerk reaction, "…not with Mom watching from the kitchen anyways."

He lit the flame again, and Casey cautiously leaned forward, catching a light.

"How've you been?" Casey asked, not making the slightest effort to sound genuinely interested. She wasn't going to fake geniality.

"Good, same old, same old," Robbie said, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke off into the wind, "how about you? I hear you're a dyke now."

Casey glared at the back of his head. Apparently Robbie wasn't going to even feign cordiality.

"Fuck off Robert, I was raped." Casey snapped abruptly, crossing her arms, leaning against the porch beams.

Robbie sputtered a laugh, "Jesus Christ! I'm sorry, how does that work? What, she bring a strap-on?"

"Fuck you," Casey replied, louder than she intended, because straight after, she heard her mothers voice from the kitchen saying,

"C.J.! Language!"

"Sorry Mom," Casey called back automatically, prompting more giggles from her eldest brother.

"So what are you doing here anyways? Here with the panty police?" Robbie asked, changing the subject.

"Sex crimes unit," Casey corrected, "and no. I'm here to make sure Karen's okay, I went to school with her, remember?" The Smith's had lived next to the Novak's since Casey was a toddler. They had one daughter, Karen, who was Casey's age. They'd been friends right up until they'd graduated, Casey went away to college, and Karen married her high school sweetheart, Gary Todd.

"She's pretty shook up, she was visiting her parents, our Dad came outside, found her littlest, Megan floating about face down in the paddling pool, cops came round, said she'd been beat up, and not just that, there were injuries that went way back. Guess Gary isn't the stand up guy we always thought he was," Robbie said flatly.

"No, Gary loved that kid, I can't believe he'd do something like this," Casey said.

"People do funny things sometimes," Robbie said absently.

"I can think of stronger suspects," Casey said pointedly. Before she had a chance to react, Robbie, spun round, grabbing Casey by her jacket lapels.

"Don't start that passive aggressive bullshit C.J.," He growled, "if you wanna accuse me of something, I suggest you say it outright."

"Firstly, since this jacket costs more than you make in a month at the local store, I suggest you let go, and secondly, I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm just pointing out that there are other people around here who _I know_ have no problem hurting little girls…" Casey let her words hang between them, holding Robbie's infuriated green-eyed stare, she wanted him to know she wasn't the same kid he used to push around. He remained paused for a few seconds before relinquishing his grip.

"Is Mom in the kitchen?" He asked casually.

Casey rolled her eyes, walking up to the window. The kitchen was empty.

"Nope, I think she's…" before she could complete the sentence, she found herself pinned up against the outside wall, Robbie's forearm pressing hard to her throat, his other hand low, out of view.

"You listen to me you little shit," he growled, "you start running your mouth off, and you're gonna have a bigger problem than an unsolved murder case." Casey felt nauseous as the cool tip of a blade slid up her abdomen under her blouse, not cutting, but hovering menacingly. He always carried a combat knife, said it was just a habit from his time in the army.

"Robbie," Casey croaked out, as best she could with his arm compressing her larynx.

"I didn't do this, but you start saying shit to the cops, and I will gut you," he snapped, keeping his voice low to avoid anyone in the house overhearing, "and you know I'm not fucking around."

Casey nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as he backed away.

"Good girl," he mocked, messing her hair playfully.

The backdoor swung open, and the doorframe housed her mother, tray in hands with two mugs and two slices of her famous banana loaf. Casey gratefully accepted both the interruption and the snack/beverage combo, taking a bite of the cake right away to avoid having to speak. It was oven fresh, still warm and tasted just how she remembered it.

Some things really never changed.

_The following takes place fifteen years ago, shortly after Casey Novak's fifteenth birthday_

Casey hated Saturdays.

Saturdays for most teens were the highlight of the week, but for Casey it meant her parents went for their weekly evening out together, leaving her in the care of her eldest brother, who stopped home to ensure she did her homework before any fun took place. At least that was the idea.

In reality, things worked out a little different.

Robbie liked to call it 'games night'.

And this weeks game was even less fun than usual.

"Do it," he said again.

Casey sat cross-legged on her brothers bedroom floor, shivering violently, shaking her head.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Fucking do it, now!" He snapped, knife glittering menacingly in his hand. Casey really was between a rock and a hard place. On the carpet between them lay a gun, her fathers revolver, hammer cocked. Opposite her, her brother sat on the floor, tapping an index finger against the point of his blade. He'd knocked her around before, even threatened her with his combat knife a few times when she'd smart mouthed him, but this…this was a whole new level, even for him.

"Come on, we did this all the time when I was with the forces, see who had balls, and who didn't. You got good odds, six chambers, five empty, one bullet," Robbie said. Casey thought about pointing out that she in a very real sense, did not have balls, but figured humour wasn't about to distract Robbie from his nights entertainment.

"Fuck it, I'll go first," Robbie said, jerking forward and grabbing the weapon, causing Casey to recoil. He gave a quick snigger before pressing the gun to his temple and snapping the trigger. Casey halfway hoped he'd get the bullet, but lady luck wasn't on her side. He placed the gun back on the floor, a sinister smirk appearing,

"Well, your odds just went down, 4 to 1,"

Casey was still shaking, staring at the weapon as though it was a venomous cobra, likely to pounce, deadly fangs akimbo, at any moment.

"How 'bout I make this a little easier for you," Robbie said, grasping her collar, and pushing the point of his combat knife against her stomach, "you pull the trigger, even if you get the bullet, it's quick and easy. You don't do it, I slit you open, watch your insides spool out like a tape reel. Awful way to go, seen it far too many times in the field."

Casey often wondered if some of the war stories her brother told were true, from what she knew, he hadn't seen much combat in his short military career, but one thing she didn't doubt was his capacity for violence. Whether he'd go all the way was yet to be seen.

Perhaps seeing her doubt, Robbie jerked forward slightly, suddenly, and Casey felt a burning sensation in her lower abdomen. A cold chill permeated her blood as her brought the knife away, gleaming with a glossy red liquid dripping from the tip.

"Oops," he grinned, as Casey glanced down, letting out a gasp at the small puncture wound, rapidly saturating her tee-shirt.

"My god!" Casey said, clamping a hand over the hole, "you…stabbed me!"

"Don't be dramatic C.J., it's a flesh wound, you'll live. Might scar a little though…" he said thoughtfully, "now do it. Or things will get _a lot_ worse."

Casey looked at the knife in his hand, then again at the gun on the floor. Her parents wouldn't be home for hours, and Robbie was between her and the door. There was no way out.

Casey swallowed hard, nervously picking up the revolver. It was a dead weight in her hand. There was no way he'd loaded every chamber, or else he'd never have put the gun to his own head. Slowly, she put the gun under her chin. Somewhere, she'd read that was the easiest way to make death certain and instant. The last thing she wanted was to be aware as her brains and skull fragments decorated her brothers dingy green bedroom walls. She thumbed the hammer slowly, closing her eyes, the sound of the chamber clicking over, making her start even though she knew it was coming.

Praying was likely useless at this juncture. Her parents dragged her to church every Sunday, and from what little she'd actually listened to, she knew suicide was a sin. In the event that she had the lucky chamber, she'd likely be saying hello to the big man downstairs.

Eternal damnation however, wasn't her most immediate concern. She'd cross that flaming bridge if she came to it. For now, she just needed to summon all her resolve. At least this way, if she died, she wouldn't be alive to regret playing her brothers sick game.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, and after a few deep, panicked breaths, she squeezed the trigger.

The revolver gave out an impotent click.

Casey dropped the weapon like burning iron, drawing her knees up to her chest and beginning to sob.

Predictably, her brother let out a loud, room shaking laugh, "my god, your face!"

"You could've killed me," Casey struggled out between choking sobs.

"You pussy," he said, still mirthful. He picked up the gun and thumbed the cylinder out, waggling it in her face. Every chamber was empty.

"You son of a bitch," Casey spat, body still shaking.

"Come on, can you imagine how pissed the 'rents would be if I splattered their little baby's brains all over my room? You know how much a good carpet cleaner costs these days! Now go get cleaned up before Mom and Dad get back. Oh, and do your fucking homework."


	5. Family Matters

**A/N Updatage, finally! This is a little more essential plot stuff, so bear with me if it seems to drag a little! I think sometimes I complicate stories too much for my own good, but tis my way.**

**I shall try to update my other fics in a timely fashion too (I've been getting a little carried away with writing my other fic "obligations" since it's such fun to write, but I figure I should complete this first as I started it first), it's just difficult with a lack of time and also trying to keep all the plots running in my head. Reviews nagging at me for my tardiness also help as I am the undisputed queen of procrastination :-)**

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**Chapter Five: Family Matters**

Casey followed her mother back in to the kitchen quickly, leaving her pride at the door. Robbie could sit out on the porch and stew by himself, she didn't have anything to prove. Or at least if she did, she wasn't exactly proving it well.

Her mother looked her other and tutted, "C.J., do you even own an ironing board?" She scolded as she neatened the lapels on her daughters jacket, "I can't believe your office let you traipse around looking so scruffy!"

Casey rolled her eyes at the admonishment, "well maybe if Robbie would stop dicking around and trying to prove what a big man he is…"

Robbie picked just that time to waltz in the door, grinning at his mothers fussing, "telling on me baby sister?"

Their mother shot him a glare, "Robbie, I've told you a thousand times: No roughhousing your sister."

Robbie approached, flinging an arm around Casey's shoulders, pulling her against him, "sorry Mom, I was just so," he elongated the word comically, "glad to see her, I couldn't help myself."

A look of realization set in their Mom's features, as she concluded that the piss was in fact being taken,

"Will you two stop behaving like children?"

Casey swatted Robbie's arm off and paced to the living room, before calling back over her shoulder, "he started it."

Even Casey wasn't sure if she was joking with her childish retort.

Back in the living room, the neighbours had arrived, and Elliot was finishing up taking statements. Karen looked older than Casey remembered, staring listlessly at the walls as her husband Gary numbly answered the Detectives questions. Karen's parents, Casey's parents neighbours were also present, and equally shell-shocked. It wasn't an unusual sight. Casey had seen the fallout from murder a thousand times, but knowing the parties involved, it hit harder.

Still, she remained in the doorway, watching from a distance. There was nothing she could do to help now, not even in a professional capacity.

After they had left, Casey rejoined Elliot.

"I think we're about done here, Mr. And , thank you for your co-operation, I'll not take up any more of your time," he said, flipping his minute notepad shut and stretching up to full height. Casey wordlessly took his side. Just as they were about to leave, Casey's father caught them at the door.

"Junior, your mother and I would like you to come to dinner Saturday," he said in an even flat tone. This was always how their arguments ended. Her father never admitted guilt, he just resumed business as usual at his leisure. And for the sake of peace, the rest of the family went along with it.

This time would be no different, "alright. What time do you want me over for."

"Six," her father replied, and paused before adding, "and I want you to bring Zachary."

Casey was stunned for a moment, unsure she had heard his words correctly, "I'm sorry, did you just say you wanted me to bring Zach?"

"Yes. If he's free," her Father replied, as though he hadn't suggested something ridiculous or out of the ordinary.

"Why?" Casey asked.

"You'll find out Saturday," her father replied, attempting to walk back into the living room and end the matter.

Casey shook her head. Her father had pushed her into a lot over the years, stared her down, but this time, he had no leverage. And there wasn't a chance in hell she was doing his dirty work, especially without even a hint of an explanation.

"You know what Dad," Casey said, withdrawing her cell phone and quickly locating Z in her phonebook, and jotting the number down onto a handy notepad station by the house phone, "here is Zach's number, if you want him here, you invite him."

Back in the car, as soon as Casey had rather harshly slammed the passenger door, Elliot asked,

"What was that about?"

"Damned if I know," Casey replied, jerking her seat belt across. Casey had never volunteered much information about her family, other than the basic statistics, she was the last of four, the only girl and twelve years younger than her youngest brother, and Elliot took her resistance to the subject as a sign that the Novak family wasn't quite as cosy as her mother liked to make out. Still, in light of the new case, he felt he had to probe a little more.

"How was your brother?" He asked. He hadn't met Robert, but Casey had never spoken of him in positive adjectives, plus she'd looked somewhat rattled after her reunion with him.

"He was the same as always," Casey said.

"Which is?" Elliot pressed.

"An asshole," Casey muttered, "do we have to have this conversation on my parents drive?"

Elliot fired up the engine, shifting to reverse but continuing his questioning (and Kathy had always accused him of being incapable of multi-tasking…), "Karen Todd said you two were close, how well do you know her husband?"

Casey sighed, "well enough to know that he would never do something like this."

"People change," Elliot said.

Casey gave a wry smile, "no they don't."

Coming to the conclusion that his girlfriend was tiring of the subject at hand, Elliot changed it,

"So, do you want me to come with you on Saturday?"

"Where?" Casey asked.

"To your parents," Elliot replied.

"I'm not going," Casey said, leaning her head back wearily against the headrest, "I don't know what Dad's playing at, but I know I don't want any part in it."

"Maybe he's sorry, wants to make up with you and Zach. Parents make mistakes too sometimes," Elliot said cautiously, unsure how his words would be taken.

"Make mistakes too?" Casey said, her brows knitting together, "and just what mistake did I make Elliot? Not abandoning my brother? Not running back into my fathers open arms as soon as he decides to forgive me even though he was in the wrong?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Elliot said, glancing across at Casey briefly before returning his eyes to the road, "I just think you need to decide if your pride is worth losing your family over. Sometimes you have to make compromises."

"So now you're on his side," Casey said, "spare me the lecture Elliot, this isn't even anything to do with you, it's my life."

Elliot had had enough of this. He pulled the car over at a convenient sidewalk and released his seatbelt, reaching across the passenger seat and sliding an arm around Casey's shoulders. She tried half-heartedly to shrug him off before settling with crossing her arms and staring out blankly at the forest of suburbia around them.

"Case, I have no hidden agenda here, I don't give a damn about your Dad, all I care about is you," he said, tempering his tone and gently rubbing her shoulder, "and you're wrong about this being nothing to do with me: yes it's your life, but you're my girlfriend, so that makes me a part of it. You need to have people around you right now, and you're pushing them away."

Casey turned, her expression unreadable, "does that include you?"

Elliot smiled as best he could, "good luck trying," he said, pulling her tight to him in an awkward, sideways hug. He was relieved when she relaxed against him with a heavy sigh.

"I'll think about it El," she said, after resting against him in silence for a few moments.

"Okay," Elliot said, releasing her with a quick kiss on the cheek and firing up the car.

*****

Later that day, Casey had all but forgotten about the stress of the afternoon.

Her brother Zach and his husband had been staying at her apartment (since she was still staying at Alex's, it was empty anyway). They had brought their new son home, and Casey had volunteered to cook them a celebratory meal.

"How's dinner coming along?" Zach asked, shuffling into Casey's hectic kitchen. On the cooker, a pot of water boiled furiously. She kept an eye on it as she chopped vegetables. She really needed to get the pasta in there soon.

"It'll come along quicker if you help," Casey said, handing him a wooden spoon and a packet of spaghetti.

"I wish I could help C.J., but...I really don't want to," Zach said, placing the cooking implements on the counter. Before Casey could rebuke Zach for his unhelpful attitude, there was a knock at the door.

"Keep an eye on the sauce," Casey said, handing him another spoon, "I better get that."

"Hey, no, I can't handle this level of responsibility," Zach said, looking moderately panicked at the prospect of being left in care of an Italian delicacy in progress.

"You're a Dad now, get used to it," Casey said, breezing out of the kitchen to her front door.

Assuming it was Elliot arriving late, Casey swung the door open without even calling to check the identity of her new guest.

"Daniel?" Casey said, somewhat puzzled as she saw her middle brother standing in the doorway wearing his dress uniform and a sombre expression.

"C.J." He nodded, "can I come in for a minute?"

"Of course," Casey said, sidestepping to allow him inside, "I didn't even know you were in New York."

"I flew in this afternoon, just came from Mom and Dad's. Dad said you declined his dinner invite," he said.

"I know Dad was pissed, but I didn't think he'd go to all the trouble of flying you in to convince me," Casey said dryly, leading him into the living room.

"God, you really have no idea do you?" Daniel said. His serious deportment hadn't wavered, and Casey was beginning to worry.

"What's going on Dan?" Casey asked. Just then, Zach walked in from the kitchen, his blue shirt splattered with specks of orange-red liquid.

"Uh, C.J., can you come help, I think your pasta sauce is trying to kill m…" his words trailed off as he sighted Daniel.

"Hi Zach," Daniel said, standing up and offering a handshake to his younger brother.

Zach held up his sauce splattered hands, "better not, wouldn't want to get this stuff on your uniform."

"I'm glad you're here, saves me a trip," Daniel said, taking up station behind Casey's coffee table "both of you sit down."

Casey rolled her eyes, "Dan, this is my house."

"I'm not trying to boss you around, I need to tell you both something and you'll want to be sat down for it."

Casey looked to Zachary, who nodded his concession. Both took their place on the couch, side by side and waited for their elder sibling to say his piece.

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes scrunched shut, "okay, there is no easy or nice way to say this, so I'm just going to come out with it. Mom's sick. Very sick. The doctors say she's only got months."

Casey's mouth hung open in shock as she tried to processes the information, "what? I saw her this afternoon, she looked fine, no one mentioned it."

"Her liver is failing, she's on a hell of a lot of medication, I don't know the specifics, that's why Dad wanted us all around for dinner," Daniel said, "she's putting on a brave face, you know how she is."

"Is there anything anyone can do?" Casey said, her thoughts rushing, "Zach, you must know a lot of doctors, maybe there's a specialist she could see, or a…"

Daniel put a hand up to pause Casey's ramble, "they've seen the best doctors in the state. They all say the same thing, she needs a liver transplant, that's the only thing that will give her a shot. But the waiting list is huge, and there's a shortage. It doesn't look promising."

Realization dawned on Casey, "so that's why Dad wanted me to bring Zach, she wants to see him before…"

"Wait a minute," Zach said, "Dad's still in good health, have they thought about living donor transplantation? They can remove part of the liver of a living donor, their healthy liver will grow back within 4-6 weeks, all that's needed is…"

"Wrong blood type," Daniel interrupted, "neither Robbie or me are a match either."

Casey's eyes widened "oh."

To everyone's surprise, despite it being totally out of place in the situation, Zach began to laugh.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me," Zach said, getting a hold of himself, "this is just such a classic 'Dad' moment."

"Show some fucking respect, this is our mother we're talking about," Daniel snapped angrily. Even Casey couldn't defend his behaviour. Sure, she hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with her mother, but while she was fighting back tears at the news, Zach was behaving in a similar fashion to when she first convinced him to watch Anchorman. It was hardly appropriate, whatever their mother had done, or let their father do for the most part.

"Oh don't tell me you don't see what's going on here," Zach said, turning to Casey, "Dad brings us all together under the pretence of letting bygones be bygones in light of Mom's condition, and after dinner we can all play everyone's favourite party game: Match the blood type."

Daniel took a seat on Casey's armchair, "it's not like that Zach."

"It's _exactly _like that Dan," Zach said, "Dad doesn't want to know us until we suddenly could come in handy for spare parts."

"And this is classic Zach," Daniel said, "screw the rest of the family, because it's always all about you."

"Stop it, both of you!" Casey said, "Dan, did Dad want us over just to see Mom, or did he want to talk about a transplant?"

Daniel hung his head, and said quietly, "Dad didn't know what else to do, the transplant is her only shot."

"Why all the subterfuge?" Casey asked, "why the whole happy families act? Couldn't Dad have just called, told us what was going on?"

"Because he knew you'd react like this maybe?" Dan offered.

Casey looked at Zach, who appeared deflated, the fight had gone out of him as the situation sunk in. Casey imagined she looked much the same.

"Well, even if I am a match, Dad needs to check his legislature," Zach said, "I'm gay, and thanks to some very discriminatory laws, I'm not allowed to donate anything, even if I wanted to."

"What's Mom's blood type?" Casey asked quietly.

"B negative," Daniel answered.

"Snap," Casey said, leaning back against the sofa.

"Never let it be said that God doesn't have a sense of humou," Zach said.


End file.
